The 1962 edition of the World Book Encyclopedia I grew up with was short and to the point about the death of Daniel Boone: “He died at the age of 86 from eating too many sweet potatoes.” That’s it -- no embellishments and no other explanations after four pages detailing Boone’s amazingly adventurous and legendary life of frontier exploits, explorations, hunting, fighting Indians and blazing trails. Facing danger at all times and at all turns during his life… only to loosen his belt a notch at the supper table and keel over before dessert.

Although it was probably more correct to say that Daniel Boone died at the age of 86 because he was 86 — and this at a time when 86 really meant something! — there is indeed confusion over the cause, with other biographies mentioning heart failure or “undetermined causes,” and if a few mention anything about sweet potatoes, they take pains to suggest unwise eating habits as a contributory factor.

The 1962 edition of the World Book Encyclopedia more than suggests otherwise, and while I always marveled at and was amused by the rather unprofessional mischievousness of their Boone biographer, a William O. Steele by name — who no doubt delighted in seeing his gustative-skewed gaffe slip through the cracks while subsequent editions dropped such tome-foolery like a hot potato — I somewhat empathize with the desire for diversion, and I have always harbored a hope that Mr. Steele was able to land on his proverbial feet after his no-doubt job termination. As for the cessation of his life, I've also harbored a hope that he hasn’t kicked the proverbial bucket from eating too much humble pie.

But I've yammered on digressively so. For having read about the marvelously macabre and enthralling life and work of obituary writers contained in The Dead Beat, I can see a true calling for Mr. Steele, a perfect bounce-back in the obituary biz, relishing the opportunity to silly-putty the prose on, for example, the obit for the founder of Matchbox cars, who “for several decades after World War II was the world’s largest automaker.” Or to wax rhapsodic about those we may lean on for support:

Selma Koch, a Manhattan store owner who earned a national reputation by helping women find the right bra size, mostly through a discerning glance and never with a tape measure, died Thursday at Mount Sinai Medical Center. She was 95 and a 34B.